Love Always, Virginia
by Queen Guenivere
Summary: A peek into the youngest Weasley's mind two weeks before her fourth year...A fluffy prologue fic to a fifth-year story from Ginny's POV (H/G and R/H all the way!)


Ahem, the title sucks, I know – but I hate thinking up titles. Anyway, this is just a little peek into what the youngest Weasley is thinking during her summer before she goes back to school – a prologue to a H/G fifth year fic from Ginny's POV. So please read and review, and tell me if you want the sequel!

Loves,

Her Majesty, Queen Guenivere :)

"Mum, is there nothing to eat around here?" Ron Weasley moaned, slouching into the kitchen. 

Ginny Weasley looked up irritably from drying a dish; she and her mother had been on the brink of an important conversation about…well, about things that couldn't be discussed around one's older brother. 

Molly Weasley turned from the sink and frowned at her youngest son. "Ron, you just had supper, dear."

"I know," he said, looking at her pleadingly.

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes. "I believe there's another biscuit left over in the pantry, if you must have it."

Ginny darted up around him and grabbed the plate with the last biscuit on it. "Ha, ha."

"Ginny! Mum, that's not fair-"

"I'm staying out of it. Ginny, why don't you come into the bedroom after you resolve this, so we can continue our chat?"

"Fine, Mum," Ginny called, swatting at her brother and trying to keep the hand that held the plate away from him.

Ron, who was a few good inches taller than her, bent over and plucked the plate from her hands, and she made a noise of protest. "You arse," she mumbled, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Ow," he said, but she could tell he didn't mean it. After he had eaten the biscuit, he turned with a smirk to his sister. "Ha, ha yourself. I have the age advantage, remember, sister dear," he said loftily, heading out of the kitchen, looking for all the world like his brother Percy.

"Wrote any good letters to Hermione lately, have you?" Ginny called after him. She was satisfied to see the tell-tale reddening of his ears, and hear his peevish, "Bugger off," as he left the kitchen.

Ginny turned back to the sink with a sigh, but the words Ron had said echoed in her head: "_I have the age advantage, remember…" How could she forget? _

Up until Ron's eleventh birthday, at least. Before then, it was as if she and her brother shared a soul – they had been virtually inseparable. Why, Ginny's father still loved telling the tales of mischief the two used to get into when they were younger, and Mrs. Weasley never tired of the story when Ron first saw his baby sister.

_"I remember it as if it was just yesterday-"_

_"Oh, Mum, not again-"_

_"Shut up, Ron. Mum, please tell it!"_

_"Ginny, it isn't as if you don't know it-"_

_"Shut it, Ron! Go ahead, Mum."_

_"As I was saying, Ronald, I remember it as if it were just yesterday. I was lying in bed just mere moments after giving birth to Ginny, holding her close in my arms. Then your father walked in, bringing with him all the boys, and while Charlie and Bill and Percy were used to babies, none of them knew what to make of this__ kind of baby – a girl. But little Ron, just a little bit older than a year, crawled cautiously over. Arthur put him up on the bed next to me and the rest of the boys followed, looking at Ginny with wide eyes. Ron was the bold one of the lot, however, and reached out and touched his sister's cheek softly. _

_'Baby,' I remember him whispering. Ah, it was so terribly adorable – and after that, you always wanted to take care of her, remember, dear? Remember?"_

Ginny wasn't sure he _did remember. After he had received his letter from Hogwarts, Ginny's world had come crashing horribly to the floor. But what hurt her the worst was Ron didn't seem even remotely interested in her feelings, and he began playing with his brothers more than Ginny during his last few months at home._

She absently rubbed the dish she was holding dry, lost in childhood memories. When the rag slipped on the bowl and she almost dropped it, she came back to earth, but her thoughts led to the dreaded, _what ifs…_

What if she had been born when Ron had been, and he had been the younger brother? That would mean, of course, that she was in the same year as Harry Potter. 

"Harry Potter," she said to herself harshly, angry with herself for some inexplicable reason. 

Would they be friends? Did he even count her as a friend now? What if she and Ron had been twins? Would-

"Ginny?" Mrs. Wealsey pocked her head into the kitchen. "Do hurry, love – I need to talk to you about something."

"Oh, right," Ginny said quietly, coming back to herself. She quickly put the dish on a shelf and followed her mother through the den and into her bedroom. 

Her parents' bedroom, oddly enough, was the room she was most familiar with. It was the room she would run into in the middle of the night if a bad dream had woken her up or if there was a thunderstorm going on outside…The room she had found somewhat soothing more recently. Perhaps it was because she and every other of her siblings had been born here…perhaps it was just because there was something homey about this room, something calming…

It had changed over the years, of course. The cavernous closet had become very tiny and cramped, the bed, which had seemed so huge, had shrunk, and the size of the room had done the same. That was all a part of growing up, though, and Ginny knew it.

More recently, this room had been one where she had had a series of important talks with her mother, most of which had taken place this summer, which, sadly, only had two weeks to go.

The talks had been about normal teenage girl things – Ginny had luckily gotten her menstrual cycle at the beginning of the summer (just five days after arriving at the Burrow – luckily only one of her six brothers had been present, with Charlie back in Romania, Bill back in Egypt, Fred and George at a summer camp, and Percy on his own in London), and this had triggered her into talk-mode with her mother. Remembering the talk they had shared three weeks ago (well, it had been mostly Mrs. Weasley talking as Ginny fiddled with her hands), Ginny blushed a little. 

"What's this all about, Mum?" she asked slightly nervously, perching on the edge of the big bed.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "A few things, actually." Her smile faded and she sat next to Ginny. "All of which are quite serious. Firstly, after consulting your father and doing some thinking, I've come up with a solution to the problem we talked about a few days ago. The one about you not having anyone to talk to?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows, feeling apprehensive. "Yes?"

Mrs. Wealsey bent down and shuffled through a bag next to the bed. She came up holding a black folder type-thing. Ginny looked at her questioningly. Mrs. Wealsey handed the black thing over and Ginny opened it, finding it was filled with thin parchment-type paper, except it was much thinner and white, and seemed to have little blue horizontal lines going across it. It was completely blank, and Ginny realized what it was before she read the front of it – a journal. She quickly put it down as if it were on fire.

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley began softly, "this is a Muggle notebook. Your father bought it for you – it isn't magical at all. We think this will help you, to write down your feelings. Please dear, at least try."

Ginny took a deep breath and picked the notebook up with slightly shaking fingers. "Thank you, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly and squeezed her hand. "Secondly, I've written through the Muggle post to the Dursley's again…"

Unwillingly, Ginny's heart leapt. 

"…and your father, renting a Ministry car, will pick Harry up this coming Monday. Now, my dear, I know how you feel about him-"

"I don't," Ginny blurted before she could think. But in the short seconds after she had said it, when the slight shock registered on her mother's face, she felt glad – now no one knew what she felt for Harry, and no one would. Ever. She wouldn't even tell Hermione, who she could safely call her best friend. 

When she thought of Hermione, her mind jumped to a letter she had got earlier that week.

_Dear Ginny,_

_I just got your letter – thank heavens you burned my last one. I wouldn't want your remaining brother to find it and, well, pick it up. _

_Thank you for agreeing not to tell him about my little holiday to __Bulgaria__ – even though you could, since it is not__ just a trip to see Viktor, honestly. I'm just afraid that that brother__ of yours will overreact – again – and assume it was because of Viktor. He STILL calls him Vicky, did you know? Never forgets to add a little thing about him in all of his letters to me. _

_Goodness, I'm getting angry. Anyway, Dad has always had a fascination with __Bulgaria__, you know! And we've never been, and since we know someone there now, it is a perfect time to go. Don't you think? _

_I'm having a time packing – since we're going to be flying (on an airplane – a sort of Muggle bird thing, but I think you probably know that from your Muggle Studies class) I can't bring much, and we're going to be there for a week!_

_Yes, I have heard from Harry – I've written him more owls then I can count. And Ginny, I think he would__ enjoy it if you wrote him! Just because you've never really…well, spoken before doesn't mean he doesn't like you! He does! I think it would cheer him up. He isn't having a great holiday._

_I know your mum and dad are trying very hard to get Dumbledore's permission to have him stay, but I do hope they hurry…keep me updated._

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

"Ginny?

"Oh – sorry, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter with kind concern. "You don't what?"

"Feel for him Mum, you know…like that," Ginny said, her cheeks slightly flushed. 

Mrs. Weasley exhaled and nodded. "Of course. Oh, and before I forget – how long is Hermione going to be in Bulgaria?"

Ginny smiled slightly. "For a week. She's leaving Friday, in two days."

Mrs. Weasley gave her a knowing smile, but said nothing. "Well, I hope you hurry and owl her back – invite her to stay the last week, dear."

"I will…er – is that all?"

"Yes. Ginny, dear, we aren't forcing you to write in that diary," her mum began, looking at the black notebook in front of her, "but I hope you'll at least try."

Ginny swallowed and nodded, getting up. She picked the notebook up and was halfway out of the room when Mrs. Weasley stopped her.

"Oh, and Ginny?"

She turned. "Yes, Mum?"

"Don't forget to tell your brother about Hermione's possible stay, love," Mrs. Weasley said, and Ginny thought she detected a slight slyness to her. 

She held back a giggle. "I won't, Mum."

~*~

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? How are the Dursley's treating you? This should get to your house a couple of days before you get here._

_Ron is very excited about you coming – not to mention, Mum and Dad.__ Mum keeps going on about how we're to give you a "real" birthday. _

_I love you. Look, there I said it. I promised myself I wouldn't tell a soul, especially you, Harry, but I love you. I want to have your children._

_Love always,_

_Virginia Elizabeth Weasley_

Ginny let out a giggle, making the tale of the "y" into a curly flourish. She wondered what Harry's reaction would be if she actually _sent this letter. But, like the five hundred before it, she crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the rubbish bin next to her desk. _

The amusement that had filled her seconds ago was rapidly leaving, and she felt a moan of exasperation escape her throat. What was she to talk about in this letter to Harry? It would be stupid if she wrote two sentences and tied it to the owl. And what if the owl got lost, and he got the stupid letter while he was at the Burrow? Her twin brothers, who had arrived that morning, would never let her hear the end of it. 

She turned her thoughts to Hermione, who was on a Muggle plane right now. She had said she would be spending two days in the town where Viktor lived, simply by coincidence, because apparently there was a fascinating museum in that area. 

Ron had accepted Hermione's excuse that she was going to Germany for a short holiday. That was partly true – she would be spending the night in Germany and then getting on a plane to Bulgaria, but Ron didn't need to know that. 

She concentrated again on the letter. She got a fresh piece of parchment, dipped her quill into the dark blue ink, and held it ready over the parchment. 

"Dear Harry," she mumbled to herself, and wrote it. It had taken her a few minutes to decide on how to head the letter, and she didn't even want to _think about how to sign it. It certainly wouldn't be "love always"; she knew that for a fact._

_How are you? I'm doing well, and I hope you are too. Have you had a better holiday than you did last year?_

_This should reach you a couple of days before you come, and everyone here is very excited for that. Mum keeps going on about throwing you a "proper" birthday party, so be prepared. _

_Have you done all your schoolwork? You have to get ready for the O.W.L.'s – the teachers must have given you loads of work. I think they're trying to ready us fourth years for the O.W.L.s too, as I have more homework than I've really ever! _

"Stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself, but kept writing anyway, determined to do this.

_Hermione's__ told you about her Bulgarian holiday, then – I'm very glad she decided not to tell Ron the entire truth, otherwise he might have hurt someone by now. I get the feeling he's a little jealous, don't you? Ha, ha._

_Anyway, Fred and George are back from __Camp__Besberd__ – poor you – so you had better brush up on your Quidditch tactics. They keep muttering on about what they'll do to Dumbledore if he cancels Quidditch this year – I hope, for his sake, he decides to keep it up._

_I'd better go – I'll see you in a few days!_

She stopped writing. What next? Should she sign it simply "Ginny"? Or would he even know who "Ginny" was? Should she do it "Ginny W."? No, that was stupid…

"How about, 'Ginny, your best friend's little sister who you've never given a second thought to?'" she mumbled dispiritedly. After debating a few minutes on each of her choices, she wrote them all down on a scrap piece and studied them. They stood thus:

_Sincerely, Ginny Weasley_

_Your Friend, Ginny W._

_Your__ Friend, Ginny Weasley_

_Your__ Friend, Ginny_

_Love Always, __Virginia__*_

_Ginny W.___

_Ginny_

So the "Love Always, Virginia" was out (but Ginny was particularly fond of her little star), and after debating a few seconds on the remaining closing signatures, Ginny decided on the "Ginny" because Harry would know Pigwidgeon the owl definitely, and then he would remember her, right?

She folded up the parchment when the ink had dried and stuffed it into the envelope. She whistled for Pigwideon for a moment, before groaning and getting up. She opened her door and went up the stairs to her brother's room, and pounded on the closed door.

"Ron! Are you in there? Have you got Pigwidgeon?"

The door opened, and her brother was standing there, and – Ginny winced. He looked more than slightly angry, and was waving a piece of parchment around.

"Ginny! Hermione _isn't going to bloody Germany!" he roared, and Ginny's eyebrows shot up. She hastily recovered herself and pushed past him into his room. _

She cleared her throat and said quickly, "Of course she is – do you have Pigwidgeon? I need him urgently to mail a letter-"

"Stop bloody pretending you _don't know! I __found this!"_

Ginny's heart lurched – he was holding Hermione's letter to her, that she had thrown into the fireplace, thinking it would be burned when they had a fire that evening – 

And then another vision came to her – her mother emptying the grate that same afternoon…

 _   "It's Hermione's handwriting!" he yelled._

Ginny stepped back, looking at him angrily. "Ron! Went out and dug through the ashes, did you?"

Ron ignored her accusation. "Why the hell did you not tell me about her and – and _Vicky?!" he stood, breathing hard, and then his mouth dropped open. "Does __Harry know too? Did she bloody tell __him as well?"_

Ginny slowly made her way to Pigwidgeon's cage as Ron muttered obscenities under his breath and glared at the dusty parchment in front of him. 

"No, Ginny, you _can't have Pig, I need him to write a letter to a certain __witch I know in __Bulgaria!"_

"Ron, you're overreacting!" Ginny exclaimed. No way was she going to use their old family owl – he would get to Harry's after they had been a month at school. She snatched Pigwidgeon and dodged out of the room, leaving her brother still muttering to himself. 

She mentally rebuked herself the entire time down the stairs. She should have been more careful! Now Hermione would hate her for sure…

_But I didn't know he was going to go digging through the ash! She thought furiously, and went into her room, tied the letter to Pig's leg while keeping the hyperactive owl in a death grip. She was so angry, Pig didn't even try to move. _

Ginny tossed him out the window without a second thought, and watched him fly off into the afternoon sun. Leaning on the windowsill, she could see her whole back yard and beyond, to Stoatshed Hill, where just a year ago things had been much less complicated…

Not that she knew all the details of last year. Some things Hermione had told her; some she didn't want to talk about, and some she hadn't even known. What Ginny had been most curious about – what happened during that awful time at the third task and after – Hermione herself didn't know. Well, she knew some things, and had of course figured out a lot, and some had been told to her, but the details Harry had only told Dumbledore.

Ginny's imagination set up a scenario – she and Harry snuggled up in front of a fire, wrapped in a blanket, and him slowly recounting the tale to her – and then-

_Don't go there, Ginny, she told herself, the heat rising in her face._

She took a breath, banished the hopeless thoughts, and turned away from her window. She sat down at her desk again, and found herself staring at the black Muggle notebook.

Slowly she picked it up, turned to the first, unmarked page, and dipped her quill into the ink. She made sure to only get a little amount of ink since this paper didn't look very reliable, and then put the tip on the paper, in between the first and second light blue lines.

_Hello, she wrote cautiously._

Nothing happened.

She waited a few more seconds just to be sure that nothing would appear, telling herself that her father would have made sure there wasn't a speck of magic on this notebook, and then wrote next to her "hello", _My name is Ginny Weasley._

The words flowed freely after that, and she began explaining about her life – but left out a few complicated things, like her phobia of diaries, her love for Harry Potter, and the big thing that had happened at her school. She just stuck to the basics – describing her family, herself, her friends, her school, and all other harmless little things, but she made sure to be thorough in explaining all that.

When she was finished, she had filled nearly ten pages, and it was getting dark. Any moment, Mrs. Weasley would call her down for dinner, and Ginny wouldn't feel guilty for not starting her journal.

"Ginny! Ron! Fred! George! Dinner!"

~*~

"Calm. Breath, Ginny, breathe. Be caaaalm," she told herself, standing in front of her small mirror, methodically brushing her ginger hair. It was pretty thick, though not as thick as Hermione's, and stick-straight. Ginny longed for curls, but it didn't seem like she would be getting them.

She brushed a piece of lint off her robes and ordered herself to breathe again. She would be seeing Harry in a few moments, and had kept her resolve to be totally indifferent to him. 

He hadn't written her back, but she hadn't expected him to; he would be coming a couple of days after he received her letter – what was the point in writing back when he could talk to her soon? She hadn't gotten Pigwidgeon back, though, which was a little bit odd, but-

Tap, tap, tap.

Ginny turned to her window, and saw Pig hovering outside it, and – oh, God – he had a _letter tied to his little leg. _

She flung the window up. "Bless you, you little owl – now come here!" She lunged for him, caught him, and yanked the letter off before dropping him unceremoniously, her eyes fixed on the parchment in front of her. It read in Harry's untidy scrawl, that was so much like him, "Ginny Weasley, the Burrow".

With shaking fingers she opened it, and was slightly dismayed at first to see it wasn't very long, only a paragraph of course, but read it quickly.

_Ginny,_

_I am having a better holiday than last year, thanks – luckily, my aunt has taken my cousin off his diet, as she seems to think he's greatly improved. I, for one, can't see any difference, but perhaps it's just me. Anyway, yes, I've heard about Hermione's holiday, and I do think it's best no one tells Ron about __Bulgaria__…I hope that he keeps Quidditch up this year, also! _

_I'll see you in a couple of days,_

_Harry_

Ginny couldn't help but let a dramatic, fluttering sigh escape her lips. She read it again, and again, and then one more time, before tucking it into her bedside table, making sure it was perfectly concealed. She beamed for a moment longer, and then decided to see if she could write in her diary before Harry came – when noises from below made her heart stop. Her mother's high pitched, "Harry!" alerted everyone, and there was pounding on the stairs as her brothers crashed down them…

She swallowed, stilled her beating heart, opened the door, and left her bedroom.

~*~

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